


He Wore Short-Shorts

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wouldn't think a charming young anthropologist would be lonely, would you? But when a chance encounter on a Caribbean beach leads to romance, Blair could get used to feeling happy in the arms of his new Blessed Protector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Wore Short-Shorts

## He Wore Short-Shorts

by Silk

Author's website:  <http://www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/>

All things Sentinel belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. Not me. This work is not for profit.

Thanks to Lisa, Patt, Amy, Audrey, Mary and all the other wonderful people at MME for making this possible. And thanks to Tinnean, who is always there for me.

Previously published in My Mongoose's Many Seasons of Love E-zine.

* * *

He Wore Short-Shorts 

By Silk 

Cascade, Washington has one thing in abundance. Rain. Rain in the morning. Rain in the afternoon. Rain in the evening. Rain, rain, rain. I was sick of it. Heartily and thoroughly sick of it. 

As a graduate student and lowly teaching assistant at Rainier University, I don't have a lot of money to spend on myself. I have even less time. But when I do have a spare moment to think straight, it's invariably about being somewhere else. 

Someplace warm. Someplace where the only wetness around for miles is the ocean. 

I'm not big on swimming. I'm not one for lolling around on a beach, working on my tan, or getting sand in my shorts. 

But the Caribbean is lovely this time of year. Oh, and cheap. How cheap, you ask? Try free. 

That's right. Free. I won a fucking contest, for God's sake. Me, who's never won a damn thing in his entire life. But hey, I was driving along, on my way to the U, when it began to rain. Of course. What else would it do? 

I have an ancient Corvair. Okay, classic. But it's still ancient. It's a convertible. The top sticks. Why? Because it was fucking raining. That's why. It never sticks when it's sunny. I swear. Hand to God. 

So I pulled over and started wrestling with the top. It gave me a hard time, but I finally got it to cooperate. When I was well and truly soaked, of course. I brushed my soggy curls out of my face and turned on the radio, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the station I usually listen to would play something that would cheer me up. 

The deejay asked a question. It sounded so simple to me that I couldn't imagine anyone not getting it right. But no one did. _No one_. They were about to give up when I decided to pick up my cell phone and call in. 

He asked the question again. "Can you name a tribe of South American Indians who live in a remote area of Peru?" 

"Sure thing," I responded, expecting my cell phone to crap out on me any moment. The weather was playing havoc with the signal and I could hear static. 

"The Chopec." 

"That's right!" the deejay exclaimed. 

I rolled my eyes. Thank God he couldn't see me. He would have thought I was just another wiseass. 

Well, I am. But I'm a brilliant wiseass. 

Sigh. I'm also a lonely wiseass. 

Maybe that's why the rain bugs the shit out of me. I mean, it's kinda hard _not_ to be depressed when it fucking rains all the time, right? 

Anyway, that was how I ended up in the Caribbean. 

* * *

I'm a lifeguard. In a resort town in the Caribbean. I'm tan, I'm buff, and I'm losing my hair. There is no justice in the world. None whatsoever. 

Oh, did I mention I'm gay, too? 

Not that it matters. I haven't had a date since these freaking senses of mine went haywire a couple of years ago. 

When they work, they make my job a pleasure. I can see farther than anyone else. I can hear when people are in trouble, even if they're too far away to see. I can smell bad weather coming a day ahead of the weathermen. I sound like Superman, don't I? 

So where's my Lois Lane? Hmph. Scratch that. I mean, Jimmy Olsen. He was a scrawny character, but he was totally devoted to Superman. I want to be worshipped like that. Just once in my life. 

Well, to cut to the chase, I'm pretty picky about who I sleep with. Wouldn't you be, if you could smell the things I smell? But that's not the problem. It's the fact that I can't control the damn senses. 

So a sigh suddenly becomes a shout. A caress suddenly becomes an assault. You get the picture. Makes sex a veritable minefield. 

So I cross my legs a lot and pray that no one notices just how horny the lifeguard is. 

Then he came along. With his burnished brown hair and his bright blue intellect shining through those amazing eyes. 

I don't care if it sounds shallow or not. I wanted to meet him. I just didn't think it would happen the way it did. 

* * *

Like I said, I don't swim much. But I was in the fucking Caribbean, for Pete's sake. I had to, didn't I? 

I waded into the water until it was up to my chest. My nipple line, to be precise. It wasn't rough, but there were waves. Every now and again, one of those waves came awfully close to cresting over my head. But I told myself that I wasn't frightened. I was supposed to be enjoying myself. 

Of course, things might have been more interesting if I had brought a companion. A woman, a man, a parakeet...okay, not a parakeet, they can carry weird diseases. Heh. 

So I started to zone out on the way the water glistened. Like it was kissed by the sun, man. 

I guess I wasn't paying close enough attention. Some observer I make, huh? I mean, I consider myself a scientist of a sort. I conduct experiments. I do research. I pride myself on my ability to notice things that other people ignore. 

But I didn't see this coming. 

The wave hit me in the back of the head and I went down. Oh, I didn't lose consciousness. Luckily. But I wasn't going anywhere for a minute or two. I had to catch my breath. 

Well, by the time I caught my breath, my shorts had disappeared. I am _so_ not kidding. 

The water apparently whisked them away and they became part of some exotic underwater tableau. Hope the fish appreciated my donation to the environment. 

Now this presented a real problem. I couldn't get out of the water, which, strangely enough, was still warm and actually felt pretty good running over those tender places where the sunburn struck. There were people on the beach. 

I know, I know, I hardly seem like the shy type. But believe me, I had the same illusions about my manhood that any other man had. And I didn't want to end up lonely _and_ a laughingstock. 

Then _he_ showed up. And he wasn't laughing. 

* * *

I wasn't laughing. He was quite easily the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on. 

And he was naked. 

Shit, who died and left me holding the keys to the kingdom? 

"Hi." 

"Um, hi." 

He blushed. The little son-of-a-gun actually blushed. I don't know why, but I found that strangely charming and even endearing. 

"You seemed to be in trouble out here." 

"Um, yeah. You could say that. Uh, could you stand in front of me or something? I don't want anyone to notice that I'm, uh, not wearing any, uh, you know...." 

"I'm Jim." 

"Of course you are," he said. I couldn't help but stare at his mouth. His full, sensual, kissable mouth. Oh, God, I wanted him. I started reciting multiplication tables. Backwards. 

"I'm Blair." 

"You sure are," I said dreamily. Wait a minute, he said _Blair_ , not bare. 

I frowned. "How can I help you?" I asked in my best professional voice. "I'm the lifeguard." 

Yell for help, babe. I wanna save your life. 

I had to get him out of there. Before anyone else came along and snatched him up. 

"Well, I can't get out here, man. I'm-I'm _naked_." 

I did it. I can't believe it, but I did. I told myself I was merely verifying the facts of the situation, but the plain truth was, I had an appetite for the hapless young man. I ducked under the water to take a quick look, and sure enough, he was undeniably and most satisfyingly, naked. 

He also had the most terrifyingly rigid hard-on I'd ever seen. 

"Can you swim?" I asked. 

He nodded, the ends of his curls lying in damp ringlets upon his shoulders. 

"I can take you somewhere and get you some clothes," I offered. 

"Without an audience, man?" he pleaded, those eyes, oh, God, puppy-dog eyes, framed by luxuriant dark brown lashes. 

"Sure." 

I was lying through my teeth. There would be an audience, all right. An audience of one. Me. 

I had no intention of letting this one get off the beach without me. 

* * *

He towed me behind him like an inflatable pool toy. He was big, but not excessively big. He was muscular; his chest and abs were particularly well-defined. He had fine, chiseled features, like a stone statue carved by Druids a couple of centuries ago. But his eyes, the only source of color in that remarkable face, were a vivid blue. 

He was impressively masculine. In every way. Which I supposed left me out of the running. 

Someone like him would be a babe magnet. Chick of the week. What was I saying? Chick of the day, evening, and night. 

And yet...he seemed inordinately interested in _my_ body. "Fur turns you on, huh?" I muttered to myself. 

Damned if he didn't hear me. 

He gave me an expansive grin and almost lost his grip on my upper chest. Only the thought of what else he might reach out and grab kept me from eluding his grasp. 

Eventually we reached a private little cove. It was everything a romantic hideaway should be. Pretty, inviting, seductive. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was literally keeping me under wraps. 

Well, shit. He was. 

* * *

I tugged on his arm until he followed me obediently to the shore. The beach here was a pristine white. When the sun hit it the right way, it could send me into a zone-out for hours. All that bright light reflecting off the starkly colored sand went straight to my head. 

I sank to my knees, exhausted and exhilarated all at the same time. "We can rest here." 

"But," Blair protested, "I'm still naked. You promised me clothes." 

God, give me strength to resist and language to court this one with, You know I'm no good with words. I want him to think I'm the best thing that ever happened to him. What are the words for that? 

"Think you can deal with being naked just a little while longer?" I asked. On my knees, he and I were about the same height. That put me at just the right angle to kiss him. 

I framed his face with both hands, taking him by surprise. Once I had his lips in sight, I plunged those hands into his long, wet hair and kissed him. He made a noise that sounded just like a tiny mouse squeaking. 

Then he opened his mouth under mine and I lost all sense of time and place. It just felt _right_. 

It was like coming home. 

* * *

When we finally surfaced for air, I felt well and truly kissed. I completely forgot about being naked in the arms of a virtual stranger. It didn't feel that way to me. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing your reflection. It's you, but it's not you. 

"Hey," I said, in an attempt to break the nervous tension that suddenly seized me, "this place is deserted. If I yell for help, who'll come?" 

Something dark and powerful flashed in those light blue eyes of his. Something predatory. 

Jim growled, "You will." 

And I totally believed him. 

"Help, help," I whispered weakly, wondering not for the first time what I'd gotten myself into. 

He smiled and pushed me onto my back. My buttocks were coated with sand and all I could think was, that's going to hurt later. But he started kissing me again and I realized that sand getting into a few cracks and crevices seemed like a small price to pay. 

He covered me with his body, but he was careful not to let me take all of his weight. I mean, I'm no lightweight, slender-framed boy; I'm almost thirty and I've got the musculature to prove it. But he must have outweighed me by a good forty pounds. And damned if there wasn't something protective about the way he was holding me. 

It tripped off all my alarms. This wasn't just sex, it was romance. This wasn't just romance, it was commitment. I had the feeling that once we made love, there would be no going back. Jim was going to claim me and I was never going to be good for anyone else. 

What did that mean? 

He pushed my hair out of the way and exposed the side of my neck. At first, I thought he was going to kiss me there. But the sharpened points of his teeth grazed my neck and I knew. He was going to mark me. 

I could have stopped him. If I wanted to. 

"Yes," I breathed. 

I didn't want to stop him. I wanted to belong to him. 

* * *

I rolled onto my back, taking him with me. Now he was lying sprawled across my torso like a furry comforter, his cock lodged firmly between my legs. I ran both hands down his back, dislodging the sand that clung to his still-damp skin. I wanted to touch him everywhere at once. 

"You've got too many clothes on, man," he said to me. Suddenly I laughed, realizing that I still had on _my_ swim trunks. 

I reluctantly released my grip on him and shimmied out of my trunks, feeling tiny bits of grit and sand dig their way into my buttocks. My cock sprang free and pointed at him just like it was a fucking divining rod. He smiled that beautiful smile, the one that lit up my world and made me want to kiss him breathless. 

"Something came up, man." 

"Does that bother you?" I asked belatedly, realizing that I was assuming a great deal about someone I really didn't know. 

"Are you trying to ask if I've done this before?" 

"Well, have you?" 

He grabbed my cock, quickly lined it up and ground his groin against mine. If he were any more delicious, I would have come all over him. Without ever getting inside him. 

"Oh, babe." 

"I'll take that as a yes, you'd like to fuck my ass. You got lube?" 

I groaned and closed my eyes. Maybe if I concentrated really hard, a tube of lube would appear in the palm of my hand. Maybe. Riiight. 

He must have read my expression. I know how fatalistic I can be. Optimism is not my middle name. 

He sat up, his muscular legs astride me. I could smell his arousal, the musky scent filling my nose and hardening my cock. "Mmm, you'll just have to make the sacrifice, man." 

I stared at him, clueless. 

He leaned forward, brushing my nipples with the tips of his wet curls, and I couldn't help but feel my cock twitch interestedly between our bodies. "Come first," he whispered against my mouth. 

Then he kissed me, his tongue lazily exploring my mouth. He broke off the kiss, licking my jawline with broad swipes of his tongue. "I'm going to suck your cock and it's going to feel...just...like...this. Only _better_." 

His rigid length stabbed me in the abdomen every time he moved. Suddenly the sacrifice didn't sound like a sacrifice. Or even a hardship, if you'll pardon the expression. I wanted to come, but more than that, I wanted to make _him_ come. 

I couldn't believe the words came out of my mouth. But they did. Before I could change my mind, I repeated them. "I want you to fuck me." 

He smiled. "You sure about that? I get the feeling you're used to doing all the fucking." 

"Maybe it's time for a change." 

Those sooty lashes swept down to cover his smoky blue eyes before fluttering open again with an enigmatic look. "Then I guess you'll just have to come." 

I reached for him, pulling his head down for another kiss. I wound my hands through those curls and held on for dear life. I spread my legs wider, and he settled comfortably against me, his cock already leaking. 

I slid a finger down the cleft of his buttocks, brushing away the sand there. I hovered around his opening expectantly. 

That's when he looked straight into my eyes and said, "Do it." 

I pushed my fingertip just inside the tiny pucker and he jerked in reaction, the feeling apparently considerably more intense than he'd expected. I moved my hand to cup his balls gently and he shifted just out of my reach. 

"Maybe we should just forget fucking." 

I know I must have looked poleaxed. Cause that was exactly how I felt. Like I'd been offered the hope of a lifetime, only to be betrayed at the last moment. 

"Oh, no," he reassured me immediately, his lips caressing my chest before he lay his head down. Christ, I could feel his eyelashes moving against my bare skin and I _still_ couldn't turn my senses down. 

"I want you. More than anything." As if to underscore that fact, his cock jumped obediently against my thigh. 

"But?" I hesitantly asked, hoping I was man enough to deal with the answer. 

His fingertips massaged one of my nipples, but still, I was unprepared for the touch of his tongue there. So hot, so wet. 

"But maybe we're making this way too complicated. We can't fuck. We have no lube. But we've got fingers and tongues and two cocks that are primed to go off like firecrackers on the Fourth of July." 

"Maybe that's the way it should be the first time," I said softly. 

The realization that there would be more than one time suddenly hit me and I was desperate with need. 

I pulled him hard against me and I heard the air whoosh out of his lungs all at once. "Sorry," I apologized, wondering how I could possibly explain who or _what_ I was. 

He rubbed his cock against my thigh. He was hot and wet there, too. 

I groaned and gave in to the urge to come, splashing him from nipple to groin with all the love I'd been saving for almost three years. 

"Oh, Jim," he said as he rocked against me, his breath an enthusiastic wheeze. 

He sighed my name as he came. 

"Mmm, I'm so glad you were the one who saved me." 

"You know, the Chinese have a saying-" 

"I know. You're responsible for me now. Sorta like a Blessed Protector." 

I kissed him. I wanted to be all that and more. Could I apply for the job? Could we make things permanent? 

"Jim?" he whispered as he snuggled under my chin. 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" 

"I think I have to." 

He smiled. I could feel his lips curving where they touched my skin. He was mine. 

We could always work out the details later. 

End 

* * *

End He Wore Short-Shorts by Silk: silkn1@att.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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